


In the Pursuit of Knowledge

by orphan_account



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Biting, Choking, Eating out, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fingering, Hair-pulling, Kissing, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Neck Kissing, Other, Painplay, Restraints, Rough Sex, Telepathic Bondage, Touching, Voice Kink, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, kind of?, the reader can be gender neutral but is implied to be female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The G-Man uses you to explore the human concept of pleasure and gets a bit carried away.
Relationships: The G-Man (Half-Life)/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 98





	In the Pursuit of Knowledge

You look up, and the realization hits your spine like concentrated ice.

His familiar eyes flash. “You’ve just noticed you’re…dreaming. I commend you. People do not usually get this far.”

You recognize this place. This is the Half-Life tram, the one that zooms off endlessly into the stars, though its typically blocky look is beautifully rendered in your consciousness.

One side of your mouth curls up before you shake your head and giggle, “God, I’m playing way too much Half-Life.”

“I am… _glad_ you have taken such an interest in this universe,” the G-Man says with a tilt of his head. “If you didn’t feel so connected, I could not be here in your mind. Of course…it is easier to enter the consciousness of someone who thinks often of…me.”

“Wh—” You ball your fists at your sides. Your cheeks redden; you can tell from their heat. After you’ve gathered yourself, you say, “Alright, well, if this is a lucid dream, I should be able to make you do and say whatever.”

“I hold more power here than the typical dream character. For instance, you may find at my suggestion that you can no longer move your arms.”

Your arms suddenly droop. You struggle to lift a hand, but it feels—not heavy, just so weak and limp that you cannot move it more than an inch or two. The coldness of realization spreads again in your chest. He could do whatever he wanted to you this way.

He chuckles, “Don’t…worry. I am not here to harm you. Quite the opposite. You may move again.”

Strength returns to you. You fixedly cross your arms and take a step back.

He looks out at the stars for a second or two and continues, “I am…fascinated by humanity. You know, I’m sure, that I have interacted with humans before, and my relations with them never went beyond the professional.” His eyes meet yours. “The human concept of… _pleasure_ …is foreign to me. To _us_ ; to myself and my employers. I wish to explore this…with someone… _willing_.”

“Oh, what the hell is my dream brain doing to me right now,” you whisper to yourself.

“If you are not willing, I suppose there is no need for us to be here. But I…feel this may not be the case.”

You hate yourself for the excitement rising at what he’d said, the anticipation. It’s stupid, it’s wrong. But…

Your voice quavers. “If I say no, are you gonna offer me a battle I have no chance of winning?”

“That would be ‘rather anticlimactic,’” he answers with a smile. “No, I will simply wake you up, and we will never meet again. You will forget what you have seen here.”

“And if I say yes?”

“If you say yes…” He puts down his briefcase and takes slow, measured, silent steps toward you, and with each step your heart dances faster. He stands over you and looks down into your thoroughly reddened face (as determined-looking as you try to make it seem). “…Well. We shall both find out what happens if you say yes.”

You can’t tell whether his eyes are blue or green. They seem to shift colors as they bore into you and, eventually, you look away and mumble, “Well, it’s only a dream, so—yes.”

He places a hand on your cheek and cups your stiffened face. His skin is surprisingly warm, almost hot; you’d always imagined the G-Man would have cold skin. “I need…enthusiasm. The information I gather will be useless if you feel coerced.”

“Yes, then. I say yes,” you answer immediately, with an authority that shocks you.

“Very good.”

His hand moves under your chin. You’d figured he would be tall, but you’re unprepared for how much he towers over you, and a bit ashamed to admit that you like it.

“I can feel your heart pounding,” he says, to your own embarrassment. “In this dream world, I feel some of what you feel. If you are too…stressed to continue, I will know. And I will stop.”

Your voice comes out choked. “Nice of you.” 

He bends down to you and tilts your face up into his kiss. You start at the expert way his lips move against your own. _What the fuck_ fills your mind and repeats over and over.

“You’ve done this before,” you assert in between kisses. He tastes like nothing.

“You are not the first person we have, hm, _studied_ in this way,” he says, his hand trailing down to squeeze gently at your chest.

_Well, might as well go all-in now that we’re here…_

You reach down to palm the space between his legs, but he grabs your wrist and moves your hand aside. Quizzical, you break off the kisses and lean back slightly with a questioning frown.

He draws you tighter into himself with a firm clasp on your backside. “This is not about me,” he says into your neck, and his breath is warm. “I am here to explore…you.”

With that, his teeth graze the skin at the base of your neck, where it meets the shoulder. You jump and give a quiet noise of approval.

“Pain?” he mutters, nipping experimentally at your earlobe. His hand slips up your shirt to squeeze, hard, at the part of your chest he’d been so gentle with before, and when you moan he says “Ah…very interesting. I wonder if—”

His free hand buries itself in your hair and pulls down, firm enough to drag an indulgent hiss out of you. 

“As I thought,” he says in satisfaction.

“Please,” you breathe, “you’re just toying with me.”

“It seems you like being toyed with.”

One hand leaves your shirt and his fingertips make light circles over your pants, between your legs. You shudder once, and wish it was in revulsion, but you find that your hips involuntarily press into his hand, and they only back away after his more insistent pull at your hair. You whimper when the hand down there withdraws, but it’s soon down your pants and back to rubbing the space there over your underwear. The fabric softens and multiplies the sensation of his fingers until it seems like you can feel them circling even down your legs and up your belly. You barely register his grip in your hair relaxing.

His hand leaves your pants and you, to your shame, actually whine.

“Please take a seat.” He gestures to a tram seat on the end, one with plenty of space in front of it.

With your lower body tingling, you obey.

He kneels down in front of you and grabs the waistband of your pants. You cooperatively, eagerly unfasten them, and he removes your pants and underwear from your body and discards them to the side. Shivering in expectation, you rid yourself of your shirt and twitch as his lips brush your inner thigh. 

The seat is cool on your naked back. Goosebumps prickle up and down your arms.

Without thinking, you grasp his black hair and try to steer his head deeper between your legs, but he bites the skin of your thigh hard enough to elicit a yelp and glares up at you with those shifting blue-green eyes.

“Patience is a, ah, virtue.”

The stammer belies the confidence in his face, a face that once again kisses the skin of your thighs, paying special attention to the blushing circular mark where his teeth had been. He continues like that until you start to shake and ball your fists to keep from touching him. It’s with a smile that he finally, finally lets his tongue drift over what had been begging to be touched.

At this, he is less of an expert than at kissing. Maybe his previous test subjects had usually woken up before they got this far. It doesn’t seem to bother him, though; he just watches your face and notes what gets the loudest moans, and some detached part of you closes your eyes to try and block out how fucking weird it was that here you were (oh god, here you were) on the tram from the end of Half-Life with the G-Man.

He stops.

The space between your legs pulses and aches. You open your eyes to watch him stand.

“Why did you stop?” you ask pleadingly.

His expression is purely analytical. “I must hear you say that you wish me to continue.”

“I—”

You do. You do wish him to continue, and the part of you thinking of the whole situation as weird and gross is melting out between your god damn legs. It’s only a dream, anyway, and you sure as hell know you aren’t gonna tell anyone about it.

You widen your legs. “Please. Keep going.”

He nods and bends to touch his forehead to yours. His gaze pierces your own, flashing in delight at the way your eyes widen when his fingers enter you, at first one (testing, probing), then two. They wriggle and slide in and out of you, and each thrust of his hand forces a little exhale from your mouth. Your eyelids inexplicably droop and you feel you must look incredibly silly, sitting there gaping with eyes barely focused, but it—does something to him. His stare starts to harden at your pinkening cheeks. His breath goes from steady to hitching, like yours, and his fingers slide faster and faster.

You can’t help it. You clutch at his suit with one hand and your other is at the bulge between his legs. You pull him into you and kiss him, hard.

He tenses suddenly. “ _Stand,_ ” he snarls against your face.

He is almost as red as you are. The look on his face when he steps back from you—well, for the first time tonight, you are truly afraid, but you scramble to comply. His grasp clamps around your shoulders and spins you so you face the closed doors instead of him, and you shout as he presses you into them.

“You cannot move,” he purrs.

And suddenly, you can’t. If you could, the sensation zinging up your body would have lolled your head back onto his shoulder.

_What the fuck_ you think again, hazily. You were learning all kinds of things about yourself tonight.

There are rustles from behind, but they don’t interest you as much as the hand that snakes around your front to rest on your throat. It tightens, stays just loose enough to allow breath. That was something he was definitely experienced in.

“Yes, the _vulnerability_ ,” he growls into your ear, “of trusting someone…a dangerous someone…hm, someone like myself, to do these things to you, to control you—that is _pleasure_ , is it not?”

You couldn’t reply to him even if you could think straight enough to say something coherent. That voice is doing something just as physical to you as his fingers and tongue had.

The stars outside are lines in the dark.

He enters you so roughly that neither the induced paralysis nor his hand could stop the sounds from escaping your throat. He says something in spasms—

“Who would have thought that surrender—letting go—giving in—would result in this? You needed someone— _me_ —to take your pleasure into their own hands, to direct it, control it—force it to conform to someone else’s— _my_ —desires—That, ultimately, is what feels… _so good_.”

Those growls devolve into grunts as he pounds you into the wall. You’re not sure when you closed your eyes; the feeling of him inside you is all there is in the universe, and with the quiet mental acknowledgment of how right he was, the world drains away into sensation.

*

The G-Man straightens his tie and smooths his hair back into place. He seems unruffled. Save for the sheen of sweat on his forehead, you wouldn’t know from looking at him what had happened minutes before.

You, however, are slumped down into a tram seat. For this being a dream, you’re really fucking tired.

“Thank…you,” the G-Man says with a nod as he picks up the briefcase on the other side of the tram. “Your…contribution is greatly appreciated by my, ah, employers.”

You don’t bother to dress yourself. You feel like you’ll be waking up pretty soon.

Wearily, you ask through a grin, “What was that before about things not being about your own pleasure?”

“Yes, well…my report will omit certain details about what transpired here. Needless to say, I will be returning to your dreams for further study, should you…permit it.”

“I think I will permit it, actually.”

“Very good.” He smiles back at you. “I hope the day ahead treats you well. I will see you when I can. Goodbye.”

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for the G-Man fans; I know we're all starved for content. I wrote this all in one sitting rip
> 
> I wish I could be like "I wrote this for a friend!!" but this was for me myself and I bay-BEE and is, of course, the most degenerate thing I have ever written


End file.
